


Bird which wants to fly

by AydeePraysForDahmer



Series: Records from Finalizer [3]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: A lot of medications, Abuse, Ambivalent emotions, F/M, Hacker!Reader, Hurt No Comfort, Hux is Not Nice, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Reader hates Millicent, Reader is albino, Reader is badass but scared, Sexual Abuse, Suicidal Thoughts, Violence against women, life is still not fair
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-12
Updated: 2019-08-12
Packaged: 2020-08-20 07:16:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20223943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AydeePraysForDahmer/pseuds/AydeePraysForDahmer
Summary: Some birds can´t stay locked forever...Sometimes they want to fly...





	Bird which wants to fly

**Author's Note:**

> Thinking about this for a loooong time, I decided to post again a short story to those "drama series" of Hux and a reader.  
Thank you for your kind words, guys. 
> 
> I am more artist than a writer...I think about making an illustrations to my stories but its harder for me past two months. 
> 
> Also, I am working on two longer stories...
> 
> \---> A dark Poe/Reader story where they are both with Resistance but all of us has darkness in ourselves.  
\---> Armitage/Reader story where The First Order takes power over a big station and a simple student decides to stand up against them. Sounds pretty similar to a lot of stories from here but changed details will make this story absolutely different. 
> 
> If everything will be okay, I want to give a life to those stories.  
I would be honored if you let me a feedback...Not just to the stories but also to that small stupid art which I left at the end of this writting experiment. 
> 
> There is no love...just obsession...

She wasn't sure what woke her up, whether the violent end of her nightmare or some sound in the room. As she woke up, she felt a movement from the other side of the bed, which then fell silent.

She didn't feel well, but that was her daily routine. She turned slowly to make sure he was still asleep. She needed to be alone. The next minute here was absolutely killing for her. She had no idea what time it was, but she never cared. She moved around the ship at any time, and most of the time, when the corridors were empty, even though there was no day and night in space.

She lay quietly, not moving to make sure he was asleep or just lying. She heard regular breathing and began to rise slowly. Her body ached. She'll have more bruises.

She found the jumpsuit beside the bed. She slipped into it in silence, and stiffened and waited every time the bed came rustling. If it were too frequent, it would be clear that he was awake. She preferred not to bother fastening the buckles. She picked up her shoes and walked barefoot to the door. In the darkness, she wished she wouldn't trip over the red thing.

Next move. She stiffened again and waited a moment for silence. It was just a short walk from the door. Then she realized that she no longer heard the regular loud breath.

"Where do you think you're going, private?"

It was perhaps a reflex that urged her to run sharply and run through the door before she could lock herself. It would be a mess then. But by escaping, she might only make it worse.

Still, she didn't stop and ran down the hall with her shoes in her hands.

She got into her small cabin, which she rarely used. She spent most of her time in the server room at the hangar, where she was constantly connected to the Finalizer systems. She came here to lick her wounds, change her clothes, and pick up the meds.

She tore off her bodysuit and underwear in which she lay in his bed. She went into the shower, just like whenever she came back from there, scrubbing her skin until it was blood. The bruises were starting to turn blue-violet.

The next day she had nothing important. She decided on something she rarely did, not to go to bed. But she can't do it without the proper medicines, so she took out a box of pills from a closet that was more like a drug lair, and took a few of them. After such a dose, she should wake up the day after tomorrow.

Naked, she crawled into her bed and was about to throw her jumpsuit off the floor. Her gaze fell on a pair of red hair on it.

Disgusted, she threw it to the other end of the room, convinced she will get another one the next day.

The pills started to act quickly. The room swung with her several times before falling asleep. She was only afraid that she would wake back in his quarters.

…

It was very difficult to get up from bed. Her body was not accustomed to such a dose of sedatives and carried it worse than she expected. She took clean underwear, overalls, and combed her hair into a simple low bun. She took a can of energy drink from a small fridge, which mostly replaced food for her and lit a cigarette.

Even after a while, she did not get better. But it was no longer tiredness, more like an aggressive headache, increased sweating and shivering. It couldn't be a high caffeine dose. She tried to control that.

She checked the pills she should and shouldn't have taken.

Hypnotics confirmed.... But she didn't remember a small box of anxiolytics. The anxiety began to ring. Where could she leave them? She wasn't going to go back to medbay and beg for them. She'd rather live without them, but suddenly it wasn't possible during the day. Her throat tightened and where she looked back, she felt something or someone watching her.

She thought about a previous day. She still had them with her before. Yes ... with her. She always had them in a jumpsuit pocket.

Hopefully, she returned to her cabin and plucked her pockets of the dirty jumpsuit in which she returned at night. The pockets were empty. Thinking about the last time she had them. She had them before she went to him.

And now she doesn't have them.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

She hates him.

She suppressed the want to hit something. But it never worked.

Not even now.

Later she picked up her courage and went there. He was supposed to be on the bridge at that time. She will just sneak in, hack the lock, find the pills and run away.

She walked with clenched fists and blood dripped from her joints to the ground. She didn't lift her head and stayed out of sight of the others.

…

No one was so suspicious that a technician like her was doing near the General's quarters. She walked everywhere, so it wasn't unusual. She made sure no one was nearby and unlocked the door she had hacked remotely and set her own code. When she returns, she will have to change it back immediately.

The quarters were as dark as it had been that night. Whenever she approached, her anxiety increased so much that she was breathing hardly. She stood in the middle, as always, when he ordered her to come to him. So what now? She never got on without his orders. Unconsciously, she wondered if she needed him now to tell her where to look for medication. Terrifying realization ...

At first she looked closely at the bed from where she slept. Maybe the pills fell somewhere, but there was nothing.

The bed was unmade, which somewhat surprised her. Looking at the few spots that remained on the duvets, her stomach lifted again. It's hard to tell if she's feeling worse of him or herself.

She walked to the closet, and as soon as she opened it there was a loud hiss. She looked behind her and saw the big ginger cat. With her hair bristled and her tail flickering, she looked bigger. She never liked the cat. And it didn't like her too. Each cat defends its territory. And obviously she saw the competition.

"If you knew I wasn't interested in your stupid master's attention," she hissed back. The ginger hairy ball lost courage and ran away to hide with its tail drawn. Hero…

She wouldn't have to dig through the cabinet to find out anything. She began to doubt that he would hide the box there. Instead, she headed for a small table beside the bed, and as soon as she found the leather handcuffs from which she had wrist bruises now, her panties she couldn't find for a month and a strand of her hair slammed and stood as far away as she could from it. Just throw it away...But the result would be strangulation, execution or worse.

After a moment, she thought of looking into the bathroom. But there was nothing.

Maybe she didn't leave them here. Maybe they've run out and she just have to go get new ones. Maybe she threw them away and didn't even know about it.

Maybe it was an overdose and she's not really here.

She laughed at her stupid nihilistic jokes and left the General's quarters. But she didn't notice that the little ginger thing ran right behind her.

…

He disappeared from the bridge for a moment and stood by the large window staring into the void of space. He hadn't heard of her for two days. Somehow, she managed to slip through his fingers, and the fact that she was evaporating from his bedroom made him mad even more.

He held a small box of anxiolytic in his hand, deciding whether to send stormtroopers to find her or to go for it alone.

Suddenly he felt a familiar touch on his leg and looked down in surprise.

,, Millicent! What are you doing here?"

The red-haired cat just meowed and stared at him. She was locked in his quarters as always. The door was locked. It wouldn't open it itself. That means someone was in his quarters.

Armitage gripped the box harder.

He knew who and why…

…

Sometimes she wondered what it would be like to be a pilot. What a freedom the pilot must have. What freedom must anyone who is outside the First Order have. But that was a very hasty idea. First, she should set herself lower goals, for example imagining how a normal First Order technician have to live. How must anyone who is not her to live.

Despite all the bans and curses from the Finalizer crew, she still lit cigarettes in the corridors or in the hangar, just like now.

The bridge that led over it was often empty, and from here she looked down at Captain Phasma or General Hux down here and there.

He and the tiny ginger monster hiding in his quarters. He and his stupid fetishes and position abuse. She hated everyone who used their position in the First Order. All hypocrites who teased the weaker ones. All whose heads were full of nonsense notions that what was not The First Order was wrong or the enemy. Their confused brains, expressionless faces, meticulousness and perfectionism.

She last pulled a cigarette and dropped it. It fell down into the hangar somewhere. Maybe to the ground, maybe to TIE Fighter, maybe to some stormtrooper on his head. It didn't matter.

She sat behind the railing and looked down. Then she looked out and watched as the ships arrived and departed. Maybe she saw another ship out there. Maybe some planet. Maybe there's still something out there. Something like freedom.

Or it's all just a lie. No freedom ... No freedom.

She was sitting on such a small part that she could just bend down more…

"Come on ..." came a low voice in her head.

"You can't fly."

She had no idea exactly what it was intended to do. But the voice was right in everything.

She closed her eyes so she didn't have to look. And it only helped tears to come out of her eyes.

She couldn't bend because of two large gloved hands which held her in place.

Since when has the voice in her head had hands?

"Stop hiding from me everywhere. You don't want me to tie you to the bed. ”

…

It's hard to say what was more deadly on this ship. If there was another of Commander Ren's tantrums on the bridge, because the General wasn't there when he needed it, or her murderous gaze that she was looking at the general who was supposed to be on the bridge and not in her cabin.

It sounds dull, but either it really is, or she has developed immunity to other hallucinating pills.

"Whatever I try, I still have to notice you. I still want to see you and know your thoughts. ”

His constant monologues not only dialed her, but also brought her special comfort. It was a terrible feeling. To hate a man and not just let him go…

"I think it's because you remind me when I was younger."

She did not know if he was referring to the pile of medicines in her bathroom or the incredible rebellion she had led against the entire First Order itself. Personal rebellion.

"Actually, I don't even have to fuck you. All you have to do is lie beside me, and this is something that no one can achieve. ”

Well, damn it.

No one has ever flirt with her.

Neither did he. He just threatened her, and maybe something could be described as a rape. Maybe those moments in his office. And then once in medbay, when she had a concussion and the nurse went to get something. And maybe the way he followed her down the corridor to the hangar ... and no longer worth telling moments.

Apparently there was something for him that no one could destroy, break, conquer, or anything else. She was a little trophy for him, which he kept nicely to himself despite all this. No one knew what he was forcing her to do and how she was treated. Not that they cared, but she couldn't stop thinking about how the rest of the ship wanted to see her squeezed like that.

It is the same song over and over.

Will it ever end?

She no longer listened to his monologues. Instead, she looked at the little drawing she'd done once when she was in her dreamy mood. It was the only pleasant thing in her gloomy dark cabin.

It was a small scenery of overgrown forest. One that is hard to find. It wasn't a particular forest, but what she dreamed and drew. Plenty of green and colorful plants of all kinds, and sunlight shone through the leaves of the trees.

She was laying limp on her back on the bed and turned away from him, looking straight at the forest. She imagined how she was in that place. Without shoes to feel the soft ground. She literally felt the fresh air coming through her lungs, not the artificial one that was on the ship.

It did not take him long to realize that she was unaware of him at all. He had noticed the drawings before, and after a while watching her dreamy look, he wondered what it would have been like. How would it be with her?

He had the question on his tongue.

He wanted to say it out loud and make it clear that one day, when all this was over, he wanted to take her there. Somewhere ... gone.

One day he says to himself he has enough of it and he can't do it anymore. He can't bear the responsibility and can't bear himself and will want to go. Far away from here.

He wanted to tell her that she was the reason he could. She and her rebellious spirit. She and her imagination. Her very presence. The scent of her hair and her beautiful eyes.

But not yet.

He suppressed it and called it weakness. He didn't get carried away by the sentimental moment. But he couldn't shake the desire to see those beautiful eyes again and hold her under him.

When she turned back to him and he could see those eyes. He did not see the apathy in them as before. The helplessness and the desire to give up everything. He saw the incredible militancy and aggressiveness in them. As if the drawing had given her the feeling she couldn't give up. As if it gave her meaning and hope.

And yet he did what he was talking about. He took out the shackles he had with him every time he went for her and tied her to the bed.

Just in case she would decide to fly away again.

(so...it decided not to post the pic....sorry...i am tired)

**Author's Note:**

> https://www.instagram.com/aydeepraysfordahmer/


End file.
